


come rest your bones next to me

by tangerinabina_de_archanea



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Mentions of kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25075831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinabina_de_archanea/pseuds/tangerinabina_de_archanea
Summary: After overworking herself to the point of exhaustion, Dedue cares for Byleth.
Relationships: Dedue Molinaro/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 67





	come rest your bones next to me

**Author's Note:**

> For @Oatmeals_ on twitter :3 I hope you enjoy! *hands u a tissue in case u cry*
> 
> The title is from My Heart is Buried in Venice by Ricky Montgomery https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ci21AQCm4aQ
> 
> Thanks so much to @anthiese for being my beta!! <3

Blood.

Screaming.

Death.

Byleth is used to these by now; they’ve been a fact of her life ever since her father found her holding a bloody knife, standing over the corpse of a man three times her size, and said that it was about time she learned how to fight.

That was when the Ashen Demon was but a child and had not yet earned her name, and yet still the story spread that the Blade Breaker’s daughter had killed a man seeking to use her as leverage against her father. The legend grew as it spread, from one dead man to three, from three dead men to the merciless slaughter of an entire band of thieves by a little girl. The same knife that hung from her small hand, warm with blood, now hangs at her hip, as a reminder to any who would dare cross her.

She doesn’t hear that story anymore in the taverns where people don’t recognize her. Instead she hears tales of the goddess incarnate, who split the sky with her sword and came back from the dead to save Fodlan in the midst of war. 

To her students, she is their professor; to Fodlan, she is a divinity.

To no one but herself is she Byleth, and even then, she sometimes forgets herself. 

Another scream rings out- Annette’s, by the cadence- but she doesn’t look to see if her corpse falls or her blood spatters upon the ground. She’s seen it too many times before. With a weary sigh, she focuses her powers and turns back the hands of time, nearly collapsing as she does.

She’s overexerted herself, she knows, and she can almost hear Sothis chiding her in her head for that, but Sothis isn’t there to speak any longer. There is nothing but silence to spur her on as the world fades around her and reforms itself to a minute ago, and when she dives towards Annette to shield her from the deadly blow, the move is exhausted and sloppy. 

“Professor?!” she cries out in concern as Byleth stumbles, and Annette helps catch and right her before she hits the ground. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Is that the last of them?”

“I think so-!”

There’s blood in Byleth’s eyes as she falls to the ground, pushed down by Annette’s dead weight. The imperial archer who killed her is beheaded moments later by a familiar axe.   
As time rewinds again, Dedue rushes over to the pair, and the sound of his voice fades in the wind- she almost hears her name in it.

When Byleth brings Annette down, moments before the arrow whizzes through the air and over their heads, it’s more of a happy accident than anything; exhaustion rends her the dead weight now.

Shouts of “Professor!” surround her, her head swimming with the sound. The clamor is too much and so she squeezes her eyes shut, and then she hears her name, spoken softly, and her cheek finds armor. The voices fall into silence, and… 

“...Byleth. Byleth, can you hear me?”

Blearily, she opens her eyes. It feels as if an eternity has passed, and yet there is still the same sun above her, the same battlefield around her, but she is lifted up and held tightly in someone’s arms- Oh. Dedue. Slowly, she nods, not finding the strength to speak.

“I have you. Stay with me.”

“Yes,” she mumbles, but she can already feel herself slipping away again, and her eyes shut.

“Byleth, you must stay awake.” He’s taciturn as always, saying nothing more than necessary, but there’s an edge of worry to his voice that usually isn’t there.

Try as she might, she can’t, and her head falls and her skin slips against his armor, slick with blood. 

* * *

When Byleth wakes she is in her own bed back at the monastery, and Dedue sits in a chair next to her bed, his clothes plain and comfortable, his arms folded, and his head tucked against his chest as a sleeping bird would. The image of him in the garden a few months before, wiping dirt from his cheek as he tended to the flowers, flashes before her eyes. Dedue was born for gentler things than battle, for tending to the gardens he so loves, for baking bread and cooking delicious meals, for giving that rare but warm smile to those he loves most.

Not like her. She was born for this war; she thrives in it. Death as the goddess’s judgment is the only path forward for her.

His voice is for late night lullabies, rough yet sweet, his hands for sweeping up his hair in the early morning light, his eyes for smiling when his lips aren’t as he glances over, soil on his cheek, and his hand reaches for hers- 

She buries the thought as she would a seed, as she has many other thoughts before, but forgets that seeds will eventually sprout. 

Dedue isn’t for her, she knows; he is not part of the path that has been chosen for her. Byleth Eisner could have followed him to the ends of the earth and loved him until the end of time, but the goddess incarnate is above such petty things as love, and must harshly remind herself that she is the people’s goddess and nothing more.

Dedue stirs and slowly wakes to see her staring at him, his face softening for a moment before hardening with worry. “How are you feeling?” he asks quietly, his voice gentle and soothing as the moonlight through her window, but roughened by fatigue underneath.

“Tired.”

“I thought as much. You have been overexerting yourself as of late.”

“I suppose so.” Slowly, she sits up, and he reaches out to place a comforting, supportive hand on her back. “What happened?”

“You collapsed on the battlefield and slept the entire day’s journey back to the monastery. I volunteered to watch over you, seeing that my room is next to yours.”

“I see.” Practicality. Of course that’s his reasoning. It’s better that way. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks after a few moments of silence, his hand absentmindedly sliding from her mid back to the small. The caress is a brief, almost loving gesture, but he quickly pulls his hand away when he realizes what he’s doing. “My apologies.”

“I don’t mind.” She reaches out to him in turn, to use his shoulder as leverage to get out of bed, but he gently pushes her back down and away, his hands on her waist and hers still on his shoulder.

“I will bring you food, if that is where you were thinking of going.”

“I’ll be alright, Dedue.” A few strands of hair have come loose from his ponytail and hang as threads of silver gossamer in the moonlight. For a few moments, she dreams of kissing him, of how his lips would feel against hers, but pushes the thought away as she pushes him away. “I can get it on my own.”

“You have not eaten in over a day. You have no strength.”

“But-”

“If our places were reversed, you would do the same for me. You must let someone take care of you for once.”

“Fine,” she sighs. “Thank you.”

He is quiet when he returns, and quiet still after she finishes eating. Silence with Dedue is its own special kind. There is comfort and familiarity in it, knowing that they don’t need words to be with each other, and that they can understand each other as well, even through both their stoicism. When their eyes meet, she knows first that he is asking her to go back to sleep and rest, and second that he is trying to hide how tired he is. 

“Have you slept much, Dedue? You can’t scold me for overworking myself if you’re doing the same thing.”

“Unlike you, I do not make a habit of it.” He’s smiling slightly as he says it, and it makes her laugh, even if only for a brief moment.

“I’m not going to sleep until you do. Come on.” She scoots to the side, leaving an open space in her bed, and lays down as she pats the sheets.

“Is this entirely appropriate?”

“I don’t care. You need to sleep, and I know you won’t leave me if I tell you to, so sleep here.” He considers for a moment, and then with a silent nod climbs into bed beside her. It’s a wonder that he fits in the beds of Garreg Mach by himself, let alone with her as well, but the way that he curls up to her only makes things cozier. Still, he hesitates to relax. “Is something wrong?”

“By-” He stops himself, clearing his throat. “Professor.”

“You can call me by name. It’s just us.”

“Very well. Byleth… you terrified me. You have been pushing yourself far too much lately. I was afraid that I would lose you again.” 

_I would._ He didn’t say “we would.” He wasn’t talking about the army, or the kingdom, or Fodlan itself. _I would._

“You were paler than I had ever seen.” His voice is almost trembling as he continues, something she’s never heard before. “By the time I was able to reach you, I was certain that you were already gone.”

If she says anything she’ll betray herself, and yet she still tries, brushing it off as best she can. “It will take more than tiring myself out a few times to kill me.”

“I disagree. I am worried about you. You do much to help others, but not enough for yourself.”

“Helping others is what I’m here for, isn’t it? I’m their goddess. I’m an icon, a rallying point… something to believe in. Something to give people hope.”

To others, Dedue’s current expression would be unreadable, but to Byleth, there is sadness in his eyes. “Is that truly how you see yourself?”

“It’s the truth,” she shrugs. 

He closes his eyes and inhales for a brief moment, a subtle sign that he’s upset. “I do not agree, but… even if that is so, it is hardly inspiring for the people’s untouchable goddess to be fainting on the battlefield.”

“No, I suppose not.” She could almost laugh. “Tell me, Dedue, since you don’t agree: what do you think?”

He props himself up onto his elbow, freeing his ponytail as his eyes avoid hers. Softly, quietly, his hair slips over his shoulders and around his face. “I think you are much more than what you say you are. You are your own person, unique and altogether…” Thinking for a moment, he presses his lips together. “Byleth. May I speak plainly?”

“Of course.”

“I find much to admire about you… Your strength, your intelligence, your loyalty, your kindness, your mannerisms…” He hesitates a moment before continuing, raising his eyes to meet hers. “Your beauty, as well. This is why it pains me so to see you let your health go. You are invaluable to our cause… and to myself.”

“Dedue…” Every words tugs at her heart, and it almost hurts.

“Please, let me speak. I am not good with words, but I must say this. What has happened has reminded me how precious and short our time together is.”

“Okay,” she nods. The silence between them is heavy, a dam ready to break; she’s not sure if she’s ready for Dedue to do so.

“I love you, Byleth.”

“Dedue… Oh, Dedue…” It is what she hoped for, what she feared, and it is too much for her. “I…”

“If you do not return my feelings, I will not-”

“It’s not that. I do. I do, Dedue, I love you, but…” How badly she wishes to simply say yes, to tell him that she loves him more than anything, but it’s not that simple.

“But what?”

“My life isn’t mine. I have no say in it anymore. Ever since I came to Garreg Mach… I’m not Byleth anymore. I’m the goddess. I’m not allowed to have space in my heart for you, or for anyone else, when I must make room for all of Fodlan in it equally. And I never asked for any of this, or had any say in it, or…” It’s the first time she’s voiced this, and for the second time in her life, tears sting her eyes as she turns away from him and curls up into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest. 

Dedue’s strong arms, warm and comforting, hold her close as she cries, and she doesn’t need words to know that he is there for her, that he always will be, and that he loves her. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs when she finally calms, turning her head back to him. Their eyes meet for a few moments in an unspoken confession, and then their lips. They kiss again, and again, and again, and in that moment she is Byleth and no one else, and she is so, so in love with Dedue.

“We can discuss this further in the morning. We should sleep,” Dedue murmurs when they break apart, and she nods, settling more comfortably into his embrace.

* * *

When the morning sun rises, Byleth wakes to the sound of birds, hushed by the pale daylight, and the warmth of Dedue surrounding her. He is more beautiful than any hero of legend as he sleeps peacefully next to her, the soft morning light drifting over his features and his breathing gentle but steady.

No power in Fodlan will separate them. This she swears to herself, privately and silently as she tucks a stray hair back behind his ear, and he stirs slightly in his sleep, a smile tugging at his lips. She will take back her life, piece by piece, even if only for Dedue.

He’s more than worth it.

She presses a soft kiss to his lips, and his eyes flutter open. In a voice tinged with pleasant, gravelly tone, brought on by the remnants of sleep, he speaks.

“Good morning, my love.”

She’s never heard a sweeter sound.

**Author's Note:**

> if u need me i'll be sobbing about how tender bydue is in the denny's parking lot at 3 am


End file.
